So, how are you liking it so far?”
“Well, the money’s definitely good,” Noah said. “That is my second jackoff scene, and I did one with toys and that certainly beats living on the streets.”
“You were on the streets?”
“Uh huh,” Noah nodded.
“Where you living now?”
“Don’t worry,” Noah said. “I’m not homeless anymore. “Guy put me up in this place not far off on View Street, This old woman lives downstairs. It’s a nice little set of room.s”
“That’s my old place!” Paul said.
“Get out!”
“Yeah. It was the first place I lived when I came here. First decent place, I mean,” Paul corrected.
“I wasn’t living any place,” Noah confirmed. “Crashing with folks, an occasional motel. I made a friend of the homeless shelter, but they need you out by nine, then you’re walking the streets all day—I guess looking for a job.”
“Did you get a job?” Paul said, and he wasn’t sure why he’d asked it.
“Oh, I got a job,” Noah said. “But what I did was usually night business. Over on Santa Monica.”
“We’ve all done a turn on Santa Monica,” Paul said.
Noah nodded, not looking surprised.
:You’d like to think things change,” Paul said. “But some never do.”
“It wasn’t always bad,” Noah said. “In fact, it was almost never bad. Sometimes it was lousy, but not bad. A lot of older guys. A lot of men not very sure of themselves. You’d have to act real tough and say, “You know, you’re paying for my time whether something happens or not. And sometimes I would say it at the very end because I didn’t want it to happen at all. But this one guy. Forty maybe. So shy, car coat, scarf, dressed real nice, bald clean shaved with a trim beard. He asked me to take off my shirt and told me I was beautiful, and then my pants. And then I asked him what he want and he sucked me. I was surprised by how good it felt. How good it can feel sometimes. He took off his coat and his shirt fit so tight and you could see his muscles and he sort of looked like a porn star.”
“He might have been,” Paul said.
“Huh?”
“We get bought and then we buy each other,” Paul said, simply. “Go on.”
“He was so beautiful when he took his clothes off. Smooth and brown all over, and he just….” Noah seemed at a loss for words as they sat in the restaurant. “Johnny he just made love to me. When he told me he wanted to fuck me, I almost begged for it. Begged for it. That’s the first time I ever begged for it. He left me weak in the knees and so sore I could hardly walk. But I loved the soreness. I made so much money. He came back two more times. I felt like he was my lover. I knew I was being a prostitute and he was a john, but it didn’t feel like it.”
“I have never,” Paul said, “ever, felt that way about a john. Or about anyone, really.”
“Really?” Noah said. “But you’re such a nice guy.”
“I used to wish I could feel more about them,” Paul said. “Now I don’t think about it anymore. I just do my work.”
“For what?”
“Huh?”
“For what?” Noah repeated. “Most people they’re doing it to save money or planning to do something else one day.”
“One day I’m gonna be an actor,” Paul said. “A real one. Not the star of Pizza Slut or Cockman or some shit like that. Real stuff. And this…” he waved a hand across the table, “is all gonna disappear. Or at least I’m gonna disappear from it.
“Yeah,” Noah said. “But if all this goes, then you’re stuck being who you were before it started. And I don’t want to go back to who I was before I started.”
As they sat across from each other in the restaurant, laughing and exchanging stories, Paul realized he was going to fuck Noah in a few days. His dick throbbed, swelling through his jeans with the thought of inevitably being inside of him, making him cry, making him come. He wanted to fuck him now. He wanted to run his hands over that smooth little body he’d seen pleasuring itself.
He took him home that night and rounded the corner waiting for one of the boys to come to him in his red car, red and bright even at night. If the one approaching didn’t interest him, he turned his head. One finally came, a little surfer with a backward ball cap and cargo shorts, little flip flops.
“You need a ride?” he asked, and the kid hopped in.
Back at his place, Paul said, “You’re going to want to shower.”
The cinnamon haired boy nodded and took off his clothes and he had a fat trunk of a cock and a tight, round little ass. Paul took it in stride as he went into the shower. A few minutes later Paul joined him, lathering him up, running his hands over the boy’s body, making him moan, reminded that, just because you paid them didn’t mean you couldn’t pleasure them, and it didn’t mean they weren’t pleasured. He went to his knees and took the boy in his mouth and the boy trembled, “Oh, my God.”
Paul ran his hands up and down over his firm, soap and water slicked body, and when the boy was going to go to his knees, Paul said, “No. Not tonight. Tonight just let me please you.”
Dazed, the boy nodded, and Paul, hair soaked by the shower, continued on him until, gripping his shoulders and shaking, the boy came, hot fluid gagging Paul, always a surprise as he tried to take it all in. He closed his eyes tight, swallowing the saltiness. This boy’s dick was do hard. He wanted to fuck this boy. He wanted to fuck Noah. He wanted to fuck everything. He stayed on his knees, shaking just like the boy, making no noise, the fall of the shower water the only noise.
“Do you want to go or do you want to stay?” Paul asked him.
“You don’t have to do anything with me, only its late.”
“I better go,” the boy said.
Paul nodded and handed him fifteen hundred dollars.
“What the…” the boy started.
“Can I find you again?” Paul asked.
The boy nodded. Would he have nodded so easily if Paul hadn’t paid him so well? Who knew?
“Where?”
“If you want me to,” the boy said. “I can come here.”
“I do. What day is it?”
“Wednesday.”
“Wednesday,” Paul marveled. “Really?”
“Uh, yeah,” the boy did the first thing like smiling he had done the whole night.
“Okay, then come next Wednesday. At ten. Alright.”
“You serious?
Paul understood the boy needed serious clients. A frivolous appointment was a loss of income.
“Yes,” Paul told him. “Really”
The boy nodded.
“Alright,”
“Well, try it with this first,” Guy told Noah as the camera rolled. “You gotta practice.”
“It hurts when someone doesn’t know what they’re doing,” Johnny said. “And when you don’t know what you’re doing, either. When you don’t know how to take someone in. Don’t worry,” he chuckled. “I’ll be easy on you. If it’s too much, just say stop.”
He didn’t say stop. The camera hardly mattered. By now Noah knew Johnny, so it was more or less comfortable talking to him. And this was work, work that allowed him to get other types of work where he wasn’t naked or pimping himself to desperate men on the street.
They shot the real scene the next day. It was Friday. When Paul awoke his dick was so hard it was almost screaming to be relieved. He hadn’t even masturbated since he’d been back. Tonight, he resolved, he was going to go on a fucking bender. He was going to snort so much coke his face would look like a snowman. He was going to drink himself under a table. As for fucking—Jesus Christ, he was going to fuck that little Noah to death. He was going to make that boy scream. He was going to get so deep into his tight little ass his dick would come out in Australia. And he would explode! Holy shit goddamn, he would explode loops and loops of come.
Paul came in, chewing gum, looking country and innocent, his marmalade hair a little spiked, that sweetness and shyness in his green eyes. He had one of those old Cuban shirts from the 50’s—white with a black stripe down the middle—but it was snug on him, and when it was time, when Guy stopped talking, Paul took the gum out of his mouth and put it in the wrapper like a gentleman, and then he pulled Noah to him. Paul’s mouth was all spearmint. Noah was trembling and Paul was whispering so low no camera could hear, “Don’t be afraid. Don’t fall apart. I got you.”
He was kissing him and whispering reassurance, making love to him, undressing him slowly, covering his body in kisses, gently inserting his fingers, moving them so that Noah made a music and cried out with joy before, in time, Paul sat him gently down and, meekly, humbly, whispered for permission, and then, pulling him down slowly, entered.
“It can be,” Paul said, as all of Paul filled him and Noah tightened on him in shock of the pleasure, wanting to pull him all in, adjusting to sweet Paul’s rhythm, “the most wonderful thing in the world.”
He liked this boy. All his lust was penned up in an intense affection, and he didn’t want to hurt him for the world so he just moved slowly until Noah whispered, “Put me down on the bed, Paul. Pound me.”
“What?”
Paul lifted him and brought him to the bed. Noah lay on his back and pulled Paul down to him.
“Fuck me,” he said in his ear. “I want to feel you just cut loose. Just fuck me.”
And so Paul did.
He had to be a professional about it. If it had been his way it would have been over in five sweaty minutes. But he knew when to pull back, and he knew the shots they needed. It was hot, but a little frustrating until the end. He wanted to come inside of Noah, so badly, but after the little boy had come, Paul pulled out of him, tugged off the condom and gave the required load, a geyser all over Noah, all over the bed, staggering, crying out as ropes of come shot from him, and he collapsed on the bed. Perhaps, because sex made him pass out of the body, as he lay on his back, feet twisted with Noah’s who lay on his back perpendicular to Paul. Paul saw the cameras go over his semen covered chest and across Noah’s stomach over their trembling, sweating, pressed bodies. He saw the cameras pass over their dazed faces and knew they had done an excellent day’s work.
Noah was sitting quietly by himself, waiting for the bus. He wanted to be hidden in the stall because he wanted to be by himself with the way he was feeling. He was shocked when a car stopped and honked at him and he looked up to see Johnny Mellow, in black shades, chomping his gum. He was struck in the chest with the memory of him. He couldn’t believe how good it had felt when Johnny made love to him. He was still trembling from it, and embarrassed. He was a fucking professional after all.
“Noah, get your ass in the car,” Johnny said.
Noah came over, climbed in the car, and they drove off.
As they whizzed through a yellow light, Johnny placed his hand on Noah’s thigh.
“Firstly, Noah, you need shades. Not cause they’re cool, but because you’ll fry your fucking eyes out. And secondly, today was pretty fucking intense, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Noah said.
“I don’t usually feel that way. I like fucking, you know?” Johnny said. “And I like being fucked. But it’s not always like that.
“I think it’s because I wanted you. I had to be a good boy last night, but not anymore.”
Noah’s lips were dry. He licked them and wondered where Johnny was going with this.
“Noah, we’re off the clock. We’re not working for another week or so. You wanna go back to my place? Or your place. With no cameras. Just us.”
Noah’s heart was beating faster. He felt a little dizzy and his cock stretched, filling up. He half panted: “Yeah, that’s all I wanted.”
“Me too,” Johnny said, suddenly gunning the engine and violating the speed limit.
Johnny turned to him, eyes hidden behind shades, a huge grin on his face, and said, “Let’s go!”
Paul got a bottle of wine, and at his apartment they drank that and smoked his good weed. He didn’t offer cocaine to Noah because he thought he was too pure for that, but he dipped into the bathroom and brushed his gums with it, snorted a bit and came out laughing, and kissed Noah.
They were making out on the sofa and Paul was tugging on his shirt and thinking, “I’m Paul again, I’ve never so much been Paul,” and his tongue was linking with Noah’s and his body was so hot.
“My name is Paul,” Paul said, suddenly, taking off his glasses.
“Huh?”
“My real name is Paul.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I want to make love to you,” Paul said tenderly, “For real. As myself.”
Noah’s face changed. He almost looked away, but instead he looked steadily at Paul.
“My name is Noah. It’s Noah all the time… Paul.”
“I want to be inside of you so bad.”
Noah just pulled Paul closer. If Paul had known some of the things Noah had been through in the past, he would have known how much that meant. But it meant enough. They didn’t hurry through it. They undressed slowly and when, with no cameras and no façade, Noah held onto him, rubbing his shoulders, holding him down, his legs wrapped around Paul. It was the first time Paul had made love, really, since Wyman, and, eyes closed, he opened his mouth over and over again on Noah’s breast, like a child blindly breastfeeding.
“I’m about to…” he whispered.
“Come inside of me,” Noah insisted.
“Are you…?”
“Inside…” Noah began, as Paul, coming to the end, fucked him deeply, and tenderly, “me.”
When he came he cried out like he’d been struck, but as his body buckled up and down, and he shot, spurted, shot and shot again inside of him. This was the greatest pleasure, and the sweetest release he had ever known.
